


no safety or compassion (found in these darkest caverns)

by TheBizarreHairTrio



Series: from terror, your devotion (sith master & apprentice, side a) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Not Beta Read, Strangulation, sith dynamics are such a wonderful opportunity for pain, unhealthy dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBizarreHairTrio/pseuds/TheBizarreHairTrio
Summary: The price for failure is always expensive.(Or: Zagan fails, and faces the consequences.)
Series: from terror, your devotion (sith master & apprentice, side a) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950007
Kudos: 1





	no safety or compassion (found in these darkest caverns)

**Author's Note:**

> sith dynamics are so fun to write GODS NADIRR'S SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT

Jelucan is cold and unwelcoming as always by the time Zagan returns to its surface. He lands his ship in a deep pit, its paint design mirroring the terrain around it, and exits swiftly, levitating aside a slab of stone leading into a deep cavern. He shakes, fist clenching around the hilt of his lightsaber, seeking comfort despite the tortured screaming of the kyber crystal never fading. 

He steps into the darkness, and starts his pace quickly despite his growing terror with each stride he makes. She never liked to be kept waiting, and with the failure of his mission, Zagan wished to at least minimize the scale of the punishment she would bestow upon him for his failure.

Zagan enters the cave, lit with faint reddish light, and kneels immediately, head bowed and gaze firmly on the ground. "Master," he rasps, his fear manifesting physically in the faint tremble of his form, even as he holds his kneel.

There's a brush of a hand against his hair, and Zagan forces himself to stay immobile. His master was unpredictable when it came to his reactions, and he didn't want to risk the chance of being punished for his fear.

"My apprentice," murmurs a voice above him, and he captures a brief flash of booted feet in his periphery before he returns his gaze to the floor. A hand lays on his shoulder. "You've done well."

Caught off-guard, Zagan jolts, beginning to lift his head. "Mast—" 

The grip on his shoulder turns painful before he can finish vocalizing the word, clenching hard and forcing a pained whimper from his throat, before another hand clamps around his throat, grip just as punishing. 

_ “Is that what you hoped I would say, boy?" _ hisses his master, and Zagan exhales a choking wheeze. She lifts him by his throat, pure physical strength, despite him knowing she could just as easily do the same with the Force, and Zagan forces his arms down to his sides, hanging practically limp from her hold, knowing trying to dislodge her grip would only serve to make her angrier.

Her stranglehold only tightens, and she turns, swinging him like a ragdoll as she hurls him at the wall, his shoulder making an ugly sound at the impact, Zagan crying out in agony. He holds himself up on the arm not screaming in pain, coughing as he sucks in air through his bruised windpipe. “Master,” he whimpers, practically begging. “Please, I did everything I could—” He cuts himself off with a piercing scream as a pressure is wrapped around his left ankle, snapping the bone in an instant.

“No apprentice of mine would dare  _ beg!”  _ she roars, stalking towards him. “How  _ dare  _ you make excuses for your own incompetence!” Her form is awash in red as her lightsaber ignites with a crackling hum, too loud in his ears, overtaking the frantic beat of his heart in his eardrums. 

“Master,  _ please,”  _ he rasps, voice still scratchy, scrambling back, even with his shoulder and ankle violently protesting the movement. “I failed you—”

_ “Ignite your weapon, boy!”  _ she screams, already upon with the plasma blade raised, and Zagan should do as she has ordered, because that is her order, because he is an obedient apprentice and does whatever his master requires of him—

But he can't do it, can't turn his blade against his master, fear quickening his breathing and his heartbeat and trembling his figure, and he curls into himself, shields his head. “PLEASE, MASTER, I DID WHAT YOU ASKED, I DID MY BEST, PLEASE, I’LL DO BETTER NEXT TIME, PLEASE, PLEASE PLEASE, MASTER  _ PLEASE PLEASEPLEASE—”  _

He sobs, tears tracing lines down his cheeks, body shaking with the weight of them, and they turn relieved as his ears catch the sound of her lightsaber shutting down.

“You pathetic waste of midi-chlorians,” she snarls, sneer evident in her voice. “Unfortunately, a dead apprentice is worth less than a worthless apprentice.” Her muted footsteps fade out of hearing as she leaves him there, curled down on his knees with his forehead pressed to the unforgiving ground, ashamed and in pain, but ultimately still alive. 


End file.
